


In you I taste God

by RipVanWinkle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Assassin Lance (Voltron), Dark Keith (Voltron), Dark Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Forced Marriage, Immortal Keith (Voltron), Loneliness, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Content, Smitten Keith (Voltron), Smitten Lance (Voltron), Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Sexual Behavior, immortal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipVanWinkle/pseuds/RipVanWinkle
Summary: Upon their first meeting, Lance McClain shoots Emperor Kogane in the head.Surprising all present, the Emperor marries him for it.





	1. You'll be a lover in my bed and a gun to my head

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from _Ava Adore_ by _Smashing Pumpkins_.  
>  I recommend listening to it while reading, although I doubt the song will last the entirety of the fic.
> 
>  **WARNING:** Blood kink??? Idk, figured I'd warn ya, but also suggestive situations, MULTIPLE 'deaths,' and gratuitous violence.

When Lance McClain is introduced to the Gane Dynasty royal court, hailing ruler Emperor Kogane, the first of his line to take the prefix 'Ko-', thought a being from the Celestial Plains had come to pay him a visit.

The young man, hardly past boyhood, is acquainted as one of the many suitors that have been tossed fruitlessly the monarch's way in hopes of securing a politically sound union. His smile is as warm as a mother's caress, his twinkling seafoam eyes unabashed in their delightful sweep of Kogane's proud form. The emperor is enamored from the very beginning.

He is so much so that he lowers his guard, steps out from behind his translucent silken screen that is sturdy enough to stop even bombs, just to get a closer look of the marvelous beauty before him. Sir McClain is dressed in the finest of drapes, the fabrics seemingly woven with starlight in between threads of lace, and the lightest colors have been applied to his soft eyelids. He hardly needs makeup, Kogane thinks, but the galaxy dust on his lashes are a nice touch. Kogane is drawn in by that mischievously ambiguous gaze, by the slits in Lance's garment that allows his shoulders to peak out teasingly, and his hands ache for the first time to touch another living being.   
"My emperor," Says the youth, voice melodic and tone steady in the face of the strongest man in the country, "perhaps I might ask you a question?"

Kogane is taken back. Most are gravely fearful of the monarch's presence, some even drawn to fainting spells. There is no such intimidation in Lance's sultry attitude. Kogane cocks his head, his long raven hair brushing unexceptionally against the seams of his trousers, "Speak," he orders.

Lance's glimmering lips pull into a slow, steady smile, teasingly turncoat as if he knew something no one else did. Kogane is distracted by his red, plump flesh, and the pink tongue that appears when the young man asks, "They say you are deathless. May I test a fable?"  
  
From the folds of his ornamental robe, Lance draws a revolver and fires a single shot into the middle of Emperor Kogane's forehead.  
  
The next few seconds are a wild, confusing jumble of the horrified screams of nobles, the furious shouts of guardsmen, and the single beautiful laugh of an assassin on a shortened death row. A sword, at the hands of the head guard, presses viciously to the column of Lance's shaved neck. He goes motionless, eyes trained not on the man who holds him but the one still standing meters away.  
  
"Well?" croaks Lance, not wishing to get his throat slit too early in the game.   
  
The guardsman orders him to silence himself but the Emperor waves it off with the hand not occupied with digging steel out of his head. He holds the crushed, bloody bullet in his palm for Lance to inspect, a murky streak rushing down the middle of his pale face. "Was this what you were looking for, assassin?"  
  
Lance's smirk is too big, too wide to be considered lovely this time, "Indeed it was, my emperor. So it is true. You cannot die at the hands of mortal men."  
  
"Mortal? No." Kogane confirms, dropping the bullet into a servant's willing hand and taking the offered warm towelette. He wipes the blood from his face, revealing not a scratch on his porcelain skin, "However that never does the job to dissuade them."  
  
"I would imagine not. Who believes in fairy tales like an undying ruler these days?"  
  
It is not nervousness that Kogane can taste in the air on his tongue, but instead excitement, awe even. Kogane had half expected the man to beg for his forgiveness, to excuse him the immediate death sentence this act has warranted. No such thing occurs, Kogane is pleased to find.   
  
Emperor Kogane narrows his eyes quizzically, "Not enough, I'm afraid. Is Lance McClain your real name?"  
  
Lance shrugs, carelessly jostling the blade at his neck and nicking his fine skin further, "As real as you believe."  
  
"I suppose it doesn’t really matter." With a thoughtless flick of his scarred fingers, the guardsman releases Lance. The assassin rubs at his abused flesh, not catching the probing stare from the monarch as his blood smears into a distorted wave on caramel. Kogane tears his eyes away, focusing them to Lance's icy gaze, "Regardless of who you are, we shall be married in a week's time."  
  
A ripple of unrest bemuses the few nobles he has permitted access into his court, but it is silenced with a flash of Kogane's violet irises their way. Not one would dare object to the orders of their inhuman ruler.  
  
To the emperor's infinite joy he finally cracks Lance's cold resolve. Incredulous disbelief clouds those bright lights in his head, his pretty face contorting into a confused half-grin, "Your highness, I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Pardon not given." Answers Kogane swiftly. He gestures for several attendants to travel briskly to Lance's side, startling the man. "Show Sir McClain to the consort's quarters."  
  
A baleful giggle does not suit Lance's clean features but he sounds it anyways, "I think you are confused, my lord. Haven't we already established I am not actually your suitor? But your would-be murderer, if you could be done away with?"  
  
Kogane's abrupt smile, however little it might be, plants unease like an orchid of gnarled apple trees in his chest.   
  
"That is exactly why you will be mine."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
When Lance breaks the arm of yet another servant to draw the emperor's attention, Kogane decides to humor him by allowing a discussion of their upcoming union.   
  
Kogane enters the royal consort's bed chambers- without knocking, naturally, for every room in the castle belongs to him. Lance sits at an alabaster table, an antique over hundreds of years old, carving an ocean into the wood with a drab dagger crafted from elephant bone and iron. When Kogane nears him, the man leaps from the table and drives the blade deep into Kogane's chest in a dazzling overhead arc. The resulting gore is slow and clumped, like tar in texture and color, and Kogane covers Lance's hand with his own.  
  
Lance attempts to jerk his hand back but is kept in place by the shocking strength the monarch hides underneath his formless dress robes. He beams regardless, "Lovely for you to pay a swine like me a visit, my emperor."  
  
"I figured you wouldn't stop terrorizing my poor staff if I didn't. Now, what did they do to deserve your rage?" Kogane nonchalantly withdraws the knife from his skin, wiping it off without regard for his expensive clothing before placing it in Lance's palm. He continues to grip the other hand, fingers encircling Lance's wrist.  
  
Lance is all sunshine on the surface, indeed, but Kogane can glimpse the festering frustration deep within. It is quite the amusement. "They kept calling me your bride."  
  
Kogane releases his hold, taking a seat at the table and crossing his legs. He shrugs, a casual movement unbecoming of a king. "Well, that is what you are, is it not?"  
  
"Should I show you my penis? I am no woman."  
  
"But you are to marry the emperor of these lands, and the title of 'groom' will always belong to the higher power."  
  
"You have no power over me." Comes the stubborn reply as Lance, too, returns to his seat. "And I will not marry you."  
  
Kogane watches the sun filter in through the open window to cast radiance upon Lance's tanned skin. If he were a religious man he might say he was looking at an angel. He ponders, "You came to kill me?"  
  
Lance's gaze flickers to him, irises almost blinding in their brilliance. His expression is bored, controlled irritability, "Yes," he answers curtly, "Well, no. If you are asking if someone put a contract on your head, the answer is no. I came here out of my own volition."  
  
And if that is not just pure destiny? Kogane represses a boyish smile. It is as expected, Lance was drawn here by the fates, meant to be wedded to Kogane, born to be at his side.  
  
"Why is that?" Kogane questions, honestly curious.  
  
The other seems to be contemplating the value of telling Kogane his true reasoning, jumping between pros and cons in the blink of an eye. Lance gives in and resumes cutting art into the table, taking his attention from the monarch, "I wanted to see if the rumors were true. If there really was an immortal king."  
  
"Well," Kogane gestures to himself, "Congratulations. You've found me out."  
  
"Heh," Lance scoffs humorlessly, the next groove he cuts a bit deeper and more aggressive than the last, "So I have."  
  
The resounding silence that follows does little to brighten Kogane's quickly souring mood. He is a busy man, he has no time to meet with Lance if there is nothing to be discussed. Resting his elbow on the tabletop and his chin in his palm, he pries, "And the best way to go about it was to shoot me in broad daylight? Why do you lust for death?"  
  
A curt lift of Lance's shoulders, hardly a blimp in his concentration on the art at hand, "I think...it sounded fun. An undying king, an assassin who has never once failed to kill a mark; sounds romantic, doesn't it?" Those ocean irises gaze upwards through fluttering eyelashes, the strands black as night against his tanned skin. Kogane is enthralled by them.  
  
"Romantic...yes. I am sorry to say that your perfect record has been blemished. At the very least, it has not cost you your life."  
  
The dagger nicks the table haphazardly, the fault of a wayward focus. A curling wave has become corrupted by the ugly crack in the wood. Lance speaks through clenched teeth, pearly white like a jade dragon's argent fangs, "Hasn't it? You are asking for the rest of my life. You might as well slay my free soul."  
  
Kogane watches in pensive quiet as Lance returns to his design. The blade, while dulled by time, grows lovelier the longer it is viewed. A familiar yearning blankets his heart, murmurs like a lover in his ear. To feel pain again, if only for a little while.... He leans forward and his abrupt closeness startles Lance. The other boy flinches back, as if escaping the bite of a viper, and raises that blade even though it will do him no good if the emperor decided to take what he wanted. That thought stains his mind like ink and he asks softly, "Are you afraid I will rape you?"  
  
Lance's beautiful gaze flashes something like worry, or perhaps stronger, _fear_ , but his face remains teasing. He answers, "Is that not what a man does to his bride?"  
  
"I have no desire to hurt you, Lance."  
  
"Do not speak my name."  
  
"Lance." The monarch tastes the syllables on the tip of his tongue, pressing to the top of his teeth and back again. Its flavor is of the salt water taffy that merchants sell in the city, of having someone's palm pressed against yours. Once he has a bite, he knows he will no longer hunger for sweet fruits or decadent meats. He needs only his bride's name in his mouth and his hand in his. _"L-an-ce."_  
  
The assassin ignores him but Kogane can see the redness along the bare nape of his neck. A delicious snack, he is sure, but forbidden to him. Kogane will not touch a single hair on Lance's head unless he wants him to. Not even an emperor has the right to strip dignity.  
  
Kogane remains near, nevertheless. He is content to experience the warmth radiating from Lance's skin, to smell the faint musky scent of a man's determination. He likes that fire, craves it even, so he proposes a simple game.  
  
"Would you like a chance to save your free soul?"  
  
Lance's feverishly working hand halts in its craft. He moves his attention to Kogane and the cautious optimism there excites the monarch. He smiles mysteriously, "Don't want to win too easily, my emperor? Like the chase, do you?"  
  
Kogane waves that off with a lackadaisical hand, "Idle hands are the devil's playthings, Lance. I worry for your sanity if I were to keep you locked up like a pretty little bird. You will not thrive in a gilded cage."  
  
"Right you are, my lord."  
  
"I will postpone our marriage for a month, and only a month. If you can find a way to kill me during that time, you will be free. You will not be prosecuted for my death, and you will inherit my entire estate and title if you so desired it."  
  
The dagger falls from Lance's grasp and clatters against the tabletop, creating another dent in the wood. His shocked expression is adorable and Kogane harbors a brief flash of sexual longing for the young man. "Wh-what?"   
  
"I will not repeat myself. However, if you cannot, we will be married and you will be inflicted with the same unfortunate fate as I."  
  
Lance watches him carefully, a mouse waiting for the hawk to strike, and retrieves his blade. He slowly rises to his feet, every move calculated and deliberate as to not alarm the other. Kogane does not move as the assassin steps behind him, does not make a sound against the dagger now at his throat. Lance's calloused, nimble fingers, however, draw a gasp from his chest as they tangle in his thick black hair. Not seeing the need for aggression, Lance gently cocks Kogane's head back, the slight tightening of his grasp warning the monarch against resistance. He wouldn't anyways but he bathes in the unfamiliar touch of another. When was the last time someone caressed him as such?   
  
Lance drags the sharpness across the emperor's throat, splitting the skin from ear to ear in a sanguine mockery of a grin. The blood that flows is slow, thick, unnatural. He brushes his thumb into the stuff and finds it cold. Kogane shivers at the touch, his neck already stitching itself back together right before their eyes. Lance stares curiously, wiping at the stagnant carnage to get a better view of the way the body heals itself.   
  
"Another ruined robe. My maid will be furious." Kogane whispers, afraid that if he spoke too loudly, Lance would fly away.  
  
The assassin takes a step back, giving the monarch space, and harbors a feral grin. It's all teeth and wild tongue when he speaks, awestruck, "That was beautiful."  
  
Kogane's face is blank but his restful heart stutters once more within the iron confines of his chest.  
  
"One month, Lance. Do we have a deal?"  
  
Lance cleans the dagger on the monarch's robe, delighted, "I love a challenge, my lord. I accept."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Lance is nothing if not persistent. Kogane admires that stubborn streak, if nothing else.  
  
The boy has already attempted to murder Kogane everyday so far this week, from another throat-slitting to a dunk in a full bathtub to an iron bar across the head. Naturally, none of them bore fruit. Lance, currently, is in no way discouraged by these failures. He continues to trot merrily wherever he likes within the castle gates, enjoying the jealous stares of noblemen who wish to be so favored by the emperor and the distrustful sneers of guardsmen with orders not to interfere. He is in a state of elation, being pampered silly by the monarch's riches and enacting his bloodlust whenever he so chooses.   
  
Lance is not the only one pleased by the turn of events. Having such a lovely creature almost constantly by his side has spoiled Kogane. How many times has he caught himself staring at Lance's lengthy legs, or losing himself in his big blue eyes as he drives his dagger into Kogane's throat? Far too many, but as resistance is for naught so Lance is a sight to behold, and Kogane is already wrapping himself around the boy's pinkie finger.  
  
"Hm," Ponders Lance as he watches Kogane's beautiful white skin knit itself back together, not a trace of a wound left behind, "so you just don't lose blood, it seems. It stops itself, moves slow so your regenerative abilities can catch up."  
  
Kogane is without a robe this time around, bare from the waist up to avoid unnecessary stains on his very expensive clothing. He was going to strip himself naked but Lance was very peculiar about it, averting his eyes and seizing up even though they have the same parts, so he respected his wishes to stay dressed. Lance pointedly avoided looking at the other's chest at first, something Kogane found endearing, but all of that timidness was forgotten the second Lance made the first cut and shed blood.  
  
He transforms into something beautiful then.  
  
"Maybe if I cut off your head, it'll work? Do you feel pain, your highness?"  
  
"I used to. I do not notice it anymore."  
  
So, Lance borrows a new dagger with a serrated edge and saws messily through Kogane's neck. It takes many long minutes to hack through the bone but Lance stays positive. When he holds the severed head in his hands, he coos, "You still with me, my lord?"  
  
"Unfortunately." The head speaks back.  
  
Lance would have kicked it across the room in frustration had Kogane not barked at him not to.   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
"Oi, Kogane," Lance grunts over a shot of something dark and obscenely alcoholic, "Why do you want to die so badly?"  
  
The emperor is glad he does not drink for the jerk his hands give at the inquiry would have betrayed his surprise. Fortunately, he is able to remain impassive. He pretends as if he had not been watching the progress of the flush along the sensitive skin of Lance's throat, taking a moment to answer to retain an air of carelessness. Aloofly, he states, "It does not concern you."  
  
"Doesn't it?" The other snaps, downing the liquid heat and accustomed to the scorch it leaves, "I am to be your murderer."  
  
Kogane is silent. They have been in each other's presence for many days so Lance is used to this treatment. At first he thought the monarch uptight, but he is beginning to believe that he might just be bashful. Lance smirks as he pours himself another ounce from a nearby bottle of whiskey. It is cute, Kogane's awkwardness, in a strange sort of way.   
  
"Fine, it you won't answer me that, how about this: how did you become this way? And why do you wish to marry me? I hardly think an attempt on your life is a romantic first meeting." Lance has learned quickly that if the steadfast emperor does not wish to speak he never will, as irritating as it can be. It is best to try to roundabout it then, manipulate the conversation until Kogane slips up. He is catching onto Lance's games, sadly, but it is charming how long it has taken for him to do so.  
  
Eyeing the nimble way Lance's long fingers dance along the neck of the whiskey bottle, Kogane explains, "I was young and foolish. I made many mistakes, thought that immortality was a blessing and not the heinous curse it actually is." His gaze returns to the other man’s face, focusing on those eyes that now watch him carefully. Any bit of serious information drags Lance from the warmth of a drunken stupor, and Kogane recognizes that sharp look. “As for our future marriage-”

“Which  _ will not _ happen, my lord, don’t get overexcited.” 

The emperor allows himself a smile, even if it never stretches as far as his eyes, “Precisely that, Lance. How many do you think are foolish enough to interrupt me?”

“Pah!” Exclaims Lance, waving his arm out and spilling whiskey down his bare arm. Kogane tracks the movements of the amber droplets, desiring the acute bitterness of alcohol for the first time. Lance uses the pretense of intoxication to act like he does not notice Kogane’s wanton stare. “You’re not scary, my lord, regardless of how you claim to be.”

Kogane reaches a scarred hand to nimbly grasp Lance’s wrist. The skin there is warm and the whiskey an icy cold contrast. He suppresses a shiver as he lifts a small embroidered hand towel, “Hm.” He hums lowly, “An immortal beast of a man is not frightening to you?”

Lance attempts a retort but it lodges in his throat when Kogane seems to think twice on the towel, and instead favors his own mouth. The emperor moves closer, situating himself almost between Lance’s casually spread legs, and presses the wet heat of his parted lips to the sensitive flesh of the other. A teasing tongue, startlingly slick, gently swipes up drop after drop. It follows a liquid track like a servant at the beck and call of its master, his fingers slowly twist Lance’s wrist and raise his arm higher so that he may continue to trace it. He still hates the taste of whiskey but the salt and smoothness of Lance’s skin might convince him otherwise.

He glances up at Lance through hooded lids, violet irises dark with blatant longing. Lance’s face is a deep red, from the alcohol and attention no doubt, and his bottom lip fit snugly in his teeth. Kogane notices the slightest tremor in his body, smirks at the response. His expression snaps Lance out of his apparent shock.

“Y-you,” Lance coughs, clears his throat as if that would help the racing of his blood, “you are not a beast, my lord.”

The monarch pauses, the unfamiliar emotion of  _ shame _ building in his chest. He promised both himself and Lance that he would not advance, not once, without Lance’s permission. Drawing his mouth and touch away, Kogane returns to his original seat with his hands clasped together tightly in his lap. He nods, not looking at Lance, “If that is what you believe. You are the killer here, not I.”

Lance is silent as he pours himself another shot, the atmosphere tight and pensive.

  
  


* * *

  
  


After that night, Kogane continues to notice Lance’s growing unease. Not one tactic has succeeded even though Lance has shown he can be incredibly creative when it comes to crafting the death of an emperor. He is growing hopeless, becoming prone to bouts of targetless fury and senseless violence as the days pass them by.

"There must be some way to off you! Poison?!" He screeches, voice bouncing off the sturdy walls of the lovely consort chambers.   
  
Kogane reads a worn book by the light of a lantern on the bedside stand, back against the headboard of a gigantic bed that takes up half the room. He answers in a distracted tone, "Tried it."   
  
The boy is pacing back and forth, practically burning a hole in the ground with the friction of his feet, "Dismemberment?!"   
  
Looking up, Kogane offers a deep frown. He does not like the beautiful red flush in Lance’s face when it is born of anger. He does not find it so lovely then. "Let us not have a repeat of last time. We almost lost my left arm."   
  
"We can burn you alive! Crush you underneath a thousand boulders!"   
  
"I would rather not be forever stuck under a pile of rocks. I ask that you find another way." With that, Kogane returns to his novel, not at all concerned with Lance’s burgeoning crisis. He anticipated this response to failure, after all.    
  
Lance glares hotly at him, an ugly sneer on his fine lips, "Fine, fine, you big baby." He spits viciously, turning on his heel to once again analyze the three blades Kogane has allowed him to keep.    
  
Two weeks have passed. Two more remain, and Kogane can sense the anxiety like an electrifying thundercloud hovering ominously over Lance's head.

 

* * *

  
  
  


A band of assassins infiltrate the castle in the dead of night sometime into their third week together. It seems Lance is not the only one who wishes to stop the union of commoner and royalty. 

Kogane does not face the brunt of their swords until he rushes to aid their true target, his fiancé. Many guards have fallen in the mission to protect Lance’s life as resolutely as their emperor’s but he gives their lifeless forms no notice. His mind remains solely absorbed with a steady need to protect and an unquenchable thirst for the blood of any who dare harm the beauty in the consort’s chambers. 

The sounds of steel on steel clash precariously in his ears as he draws nearer to the fray, curved blade at the ready and just as hungry as he. It whispers for death at the back of his brain, shines a startling violet in the low candlelight and hums with distant power. His palm tingles with delight at the feeling. It grows as the symphony of battle does but his chest remains still, his movements calculated. It has been awhile since he had challengers.

Lance is known for his deinteous aim but it cannot be said that he has never trained in swordsmanship. It would have been foolish of him not to. However, his stronger abilities  _ do _ lay within the bounds of marksmanship, so the fight he is engaged in is lasting longer than it normally would have, had he his trusty pistol. The sword he swiped from his dead guards is heavier than he would have liked, not fitting his quick in-and-out close fighting style. It takes more energy to heave it at his opponents and he can feel his muscles tiring quickly. He knows, and more importantly,  _ they _ know, that he cannot hold out for as long as they can. 

He is already decorated in the gore of earlier attackers, when he used the darkness of the room against them to slaughter two or three with daggers, and some of the filth is his own. His shoulder aches with exertion and a deep laceration that gushes everytime he swings his blade. He mourns the loss of another elegant set of robes. Kogane is going to be so upset with him!

Lance parries the attack of a closer assassin, their swords locking together and leaving his sides open to the others. He hisses a vile curse, attempts to shove the man off but discovers their tremendous difference in brute strength. The movement in the corner of his eye signals the approach of his killer and he snarls his frustration and instinctual terror-

Blood splatters across the bridge of his nose and down his neck, the death cry of the assassin startlingly loud in the dark room. Narrowed eyes, flashing a furious bright yellow, glare from the inky blackness, their rage focused on the invader. Another body thuds onto the ground, dead before it even touched the floor. Lance grunts, taking the opportunity of the other’s slackened grip to shove thoughtlessly forwards. As they fall together, Kogane darts like a bullet, snagging Lance with one mighty hand by the collar of his soiled robes to throw him away. He lands in a warm pooling liquid some meters away, sword clattering from his weakening hands. He stares as Emperor Kogane’s magnificent blade glints like the eyes of a feral cat in the waning moonlight, hovering threateningly in the air before driving with great finality into the vulnerable chest of Lance’s attacker. 

Lance clambers to his bare, bloody feet, trying to ignore the disgusting sticky sensation along his back and arms. His shoulder throbs, his knuckles sting, and yet he watches unmovingly. Once Kogane is satisfied that his prey is dead, he removes his sword from the carcass, wipes it clean with the loose sleeve of his night robe. His ivory skin glows like alabaster in the softness of the natural light, the faint droplets of vermilion stark against his cheeks and hands, and his long, ebony hair tumbles gracefully over his shoulder. 

Lance can only stare at the marvel before him. His pain is forgotten, simple cigarette smoke on the cool breeze of summer, and his heart beats fast.  _ Adrenaline, _ he tells himself,  _ from the scuffle.  _ But these are not battle jitters he experiences in his shaking limbs. 

Kogane is ethereal.

The emperor’s pink mouth parts to form words he cannot understand. He stares and stares, trapped by those mauve irises that blink in concern. Lance smiles foolishly. 

“Your shoulder!” Kogane barks, stomping towards him and out of the moon’s spotlight, “Come, I will take you to the infirmary.”

Lance stares at the caressing hand on his good arm, the light tug to pull him closer to the monarch. He glances at Kogane’s bloodied fingers, lovely in their hidden power, and swallows whatever spit remains in his mouth. 

“Su-sure, you’re the boss.” Murmurs Lance as he tears his eyes away. He should be more careful. 

If he stares too long he might give Kogane the wrong idea.

 

* * *

  
  
  


On the final day, the eve of their wedding, Lance visits Kogane in the emperor’s chambers. His shoulder is still bandaged but is healing without issue, the pain of the stitches a quickly fading memory. He always did bounce back before other the other children. 

Kogane watches him slip in, allowed to do so by the guards (or perhaps he sneaked past them), face impassive save for the tiniest of smiles dancing on his lips. He stands from his desk, moving around it to greet the other man, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lance stops before him, sapphire eyes alight with some flighty emotion Kogane cannot put his finger on. The assassin crosses his arms almost defiantly, as if the emperor were a scolding parent, and grumbles, “Well, you’ve won, no doubt.”

The monarch cocks his head in a quizzical motion, dark brows furrowing and mouth puckering slightly, “You’re giving up, so close?”

“I am not  _ close, _ I never was. You have been toying with me this entire time.” Snaps Lance, arms now moving so he may clench his fists in simmering rage by his sides. He wears his usual loose fitting robe but tonight it appears messier than normal, the knot not as tight and the silk wrinkled like he pulled it on in quite the haste. Paired with the way his lip curls, the way his irises glow...he looks  _ unhinged. _

Kogane shakes his head, “No, Lance. I have been nothing but serious with you since the beginning. I told you many have tried to kill me and all have failed. I have worked with you tirelessly to find a means to end my life; not once have I hindered you or attempted to distract you from your goal.”

Lance’s scowl darkens, “As if you  _ need _ to try to distract me. I know your games, Kogane.”

He shivers despite the tense atmosphere. Hearing his surname on Lance’s tongue is enough to drive him crazy...he wonders how his true birth name will sound. Kogane questions, “What games have I been playing?”

“This!” Lance grabs the folds of his robe in vicious, scarred hands, dragging them forward so abruptly they almost tear at the seams. The movement exposes the freckled plain of his bare chest and the teasing sight of a dusty brown nipple, making Kogane’s mouth turn to cotton. He shouts, “This finery! The food, the alcohol, the servants- you have been catering to my every  _ insane _ whim, and I know you only do it to convince me to stay!”

Sighing, Kogane rests his rear against the surface of his desk. His face slackens into a displeased frown, “I am the richest man in the country. Why would I leave my finacé to rot in squalor when I could pamper him half to death? You act as if you do not deserve it.”

“I  _ don’t!  _ UGH!” Lance slaps a hand over his face, dragging it down as if he could wipe away his frustration. His annoyance is beginning to corrupt Kogane as well, for the emperor feels the embers of pique being stoked in his chest. “That isn’t the point! I am  _ not _ your fiancé! You cannot expect me to bend over and take this!”

Gritting his sharpening teeth, Kogane pushes himself off the desk. He stomps to Lance, face contorting into darkening heat, gaze burning like a furnace. Lance takes a step back, obviously intimidated by his advancing form for a split second before his pride kicks in and he hardens himself. With his chin held high, he meets Kogane head on, determined not to break underneath that withering stare.

Kogane is the same height as Lance and yet he seems to tower over him, his aura so strong it almost chokes all resistance out of the other. Lance cannot deny it- there is something so devastatingly  _ attractive _ about the tightness of Kogane’s jaw, about the clear cut fury in the sharp lines of his face. He almost wishes to bare his neck in submission, to give himself over to the punishing hands of the emperor. Regardless, he holds fast, using every ounce of will he harbors to hide the swirling typhoon of shameful lust inside.

“You  _ are _ my betrothed, you  _ will _ marry me tomorrow. We made a deal, Lance.” Kogane snarls, untamed energy like that of a bloodthirsty lion. His lips pull back as if to growl, his pointed fangs glinting razor sharp in the light of a nearby lantern and Lance gets dizzy for a second. Kogane does not touch Lance, honors his committed promise, even if he does wish to shake the boy. He continues in a low tone, unaware of what it does to Lance’s insides, “Or do you not have the balls to act on your word?  _ Pathetic. _ ”

A wave of frustrated insult crashes over Lance’s head, mingling confusingly with the raw arousal in his gut. He understands that what Kogane says is true, that the monarch  _ did _ go along with all of Lance’s schemes, even helped think of new methods to try, but  _ dammit  _ it stings. He supposes from the very beginning he did not have a choice in the matter, but a deal is a deal, and a man’s word is worth his weight. He bites his bottom lip, eyes shying to the left when he sees Kogane’s dip to the flesh, “The night is not over yet, my lord.” He mutters petulantly, “One last try.”

The frothing fury in Kogane’s body eases back in the pits of his mind, never at ease but willing to retreat for the time being. He sighs once more in defeat, “As you wish.” He walks to his bed to give Lance space, back turned to the other, “How do you-”

The monarch is shoved unceremoniously face first onto the bed and a heavy weight straddles the small of his back. He feels the hot nakedness of two smooth thighs digging into his sides and a half hard, thinly clothed lump digging into his flesh. His mouth waters but he does not fight Lance’s hold on him. Turning his head to the side, he is just able to watch Lance out of the corner of his eye, “And?”

Lance shudders above him, legs tightening in a unintentionally sensual squeeze before releasing, and he raises a simple blade in the air. His jaw is set and his eyes blurred with startling wetness, “How many times do I have to stab you for you to stay down?” He mutters, half to himself and half to the fluffy sheets under Kogane’s cheek. 

“Find out.” Comes Kogane’s blunt answer.

With a broken cry, Lance drives the dagger downwards, easily piercing the skin and muscle of Kogane’s back like scissors through paper. The monarch wheezes from the impact and otherwise remains stoically silent. He lets Lance take out his rage, his hopelessness, his agony at having his freedom torn from his grasp, with each brutal thrust of the knife into his body. 

When he whispers words of concern, reminding Lance not to accidentally cut his own hand, the speed of the stabbing increases. Not an inch of Kogane’s back is ignored or left bloodless; the killer on top takes careful consideration of this, even in his anguish. He starts to groan, whines like a dog missing its bone, and the next stab gets lodged between Kogane’s ribs. His hands are slick with Kogane’s inhuman black gore, he cannot pull the blade from the other’s body, his shoulder screams in misery- he clenches his teeth and, with one final jerk, manages to loosen the grip of Kogane’s bones.

He looks down in horrified wonder at the massacre of the emperor’s back. His fingers, the tips trembling, slowly graze the torn skin. He pushes the ripped garment sticking in the blood away, gazing on as, once again, the body heals itself before his very eyes. Swallowing, Lance murmurs,  _ “You’re beautiful.” _

Kogane’s breath catches and his muscles grow taunt. He stays incredibly still, so very afraid to spook the deity staring down at him as if he were a work of art.

Like a rabbit creeps deliberately past a slumbering wolf, so moderately does Lance lean down. Kogane halts a soft moan at the boy’s shifting erection that continues to press into his flesh, his own member hardening in interest. He almost jolts at the playful breath on his now bare shoulders, at the lips so near to his closing wound. Lance whimpers and the noise is enough to submerge him in fervor. 

The skittish kitten lick at the hot tar splattered there drags a gasp from his parted lips. Lance pulls back and his mouth is speckled with black, electrifying baby blues clouded with hazy desire. His pretty pink tongue lazily cleans the mess, back arching so that his hardness presses ever more firmly into Kogane. Unknowingly, brainlessly even, his hips begin to rock forward and back, forward and back-

Kogane moans and the moment shatters like a broken mirror. 

Blinking himself out of the murkiness of thoughtless lust, Lance throws both the dagger and himself to opposite sides of Kogane. He lands gracelessly on his backside upon the bed and scrambles to create distance between them. Kogane eases himself up, cracking his neck and eyeing the other in bemusement, “You accept now? You see that it is impossible?”

Lance refuses to look at him, instead glaring wetly at his stained palms and stumbling out of the bed. He hurries from the room, leaving the emperor alone with thoughts and greed crazed into a whirlwind.


	2. Lovely girl, you're the murder in my world, dressing coffins for the souls I've left behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title credit goes to _Ava Adore_ by Smashing Pumpkins. This fic is high key based off of it. 
> 
>  
> 
> **WARNING: Gore/vivisection kink, unhealthy sexual behavior, light smut**

It is the day of their wedding and Lance is a vision in alabaster.

He is dressed in the finest fabrics Emperor Kogane’s servants could find, his lithe body covered by layer upon layer of charmeuse silk. The vermillion collar broadly sweeps in a great opening around his neck, allowing his smooth tan shoulders to grow warm in the soft light of sunset. Along the _tamoto_ red lions prowl, stalking their prey through dyed underbrush in a never ending cycle. They are so long they would have dragged across the earth had Lance not had his hands clasped tightly together to his middle, like he was feeling the pains of stomach ache.

The _obi_ renders him formless, a smooth column of cloth and man all tied at the center to keep them together. It is also a snowy white and supported by a contrasting deep crimson _obiagé_. At his demand, Lance does not wear the headdress that traditionally accompanies his wedding attire.

 _“This outfit is already unconventional enough! I’ll not wear that stupid thing!”_ He had hissed at the servants when they brought it to him. The emperor was quick to give in to his bride-to-be’s simple request. It is a small sacrifice for the wonderful union ahead of them; besides, no headdress allows the glinting sapphire tassels attached to lacquer hair clips tinkle just so beautifully in his hair. Kogane chose those himself, caring very little for the claims of them not matching the _uchikake._ They bring out the fire in Lance’s eyes and that is all that matters.

When asked if he would apply makeup, Lance argued with the dress servants until they pleaded with him to concede, claiming that the emperor would surely do away with them if they did not convince him to wear it. He then begrudgingly allowed it, surprised that they only went so far as to apply a glossy pink to his lips and a playful sparkle to his lids. Kogane must not like it when he wears _too_ much makeup.

Lance, a professional con artist used to the intricacies of cross dressing in his line of work, is as graceful as ever in his _geta_ as he slowly makes his way past the stares of noblemen and towards the shrine center where the emperor resides. His steps are sure and steady but his gaze absent minded, as if he were wandering about with only some form of recollection of a destination. It is not too grand an affair, as far as royal weddings go, and Lance is thankful that Kogane is not a man of theatrics. He would have fled long ago if he was to head into some great spectacle.

Fortunately, like the man himself, Kogane’s events are always quiet and calm. The air does buzz with a certain energy, something that Lance cannot really put a finger on, but not a sound other than the cries of bird overhead is heard. He glances up at a crane as it flies above them. It is lovely in its freedom.

 _“You will not thrive in a gilded cage.”_ Then what is this now, Kogane? What is this _obi,_ stifling his movement? What are these thick robes, heavy so they might weigh down his twitching wings? What is this now?

Lance supposes, as he gazes upon his betrothed, that this is not a fate worse than death as he once would have thought. He is marrying an _emperor_ , for goodness sake. His life will never know hardship again. Somehow this thought saddens him when it should delight. He chastises himself. What would his siblings have done to earn this honor? Who would they have killed?

Emperor Kogane is not nearly as ostentatiously dressed as he, unsurprisingly. He wears only a few layers, black upon white, with plain embroidered _hakama_ beneath. The depth of the onyx on his shoulders casts Kogane’s face into a greater paleness than usual, and Lance worries, for a moment, if he is marrying Death. His long raven hair is pulled by a leather band into a simple tail on the top of his head, the ends reaching just above the small of his back. His eyes, with pretty violet irises flashing gold in the sunlight, watch Lance’s progression in rapt attention. Lance refuses to falter and show how his hands shake within the _tamoto._

Kogane takes that quivering hand in his when they meet, bringing it briefly to his warm lips in a ghost of a greeting. A small smile then quirks and Lance wants to find smugness there but fails. His stomach falls in a great leap for there is only adoration in his eyes.

The wedding is a quick and painless endeavor. The priest blesses them and their union, finishes it all up nicely with a request that they now kiss to seal their companionship. Lance’s back stiffens and he bites his bottom lip. This is the part he had been dreading. Memories of the night before, in the emperor’s chambers, come flooding back all at once. Would Kogane be expecting that same fervor now? Regardless that Lance knew not why he acted so indignantly?

To Lance’s great relief, Kogane’s smile grows mysteriously weary, and, shocking all present, presses his lips to Lance’s forehead instead. Lance cannot help but grin. The priest did just ask for a kiss; never did he specify where it had to be placed. The emperor is a funny man indeed.

Just like that, on the cusp of afternoon and evening, Emperor Kogane of the Gane Dynasty marries an assassin of common blood.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance lays awake in his bed chambers all evening and well into the night, awaiting Kogane’s sure arrival. It is his right, isn’t it? To take what he wants from his bride?

But the emperor never shows.

Lance wonders, as he finally fades into his dreamscape, if Kogane knew of his nauseating fear. Knew of it and cared enough for him to stay away.

He wonders what that means for them.

 

* * *

 

 

The days turn to weeks, and the weeks into months, and yet still does Lance lay alone at night. He never once questions the emperor’s actions, afraid that they would spur the man into finally demanding their consummation, but these fears do not keep him from pondering on it. As he spends his time playing pranks on the servants and guards, or following Kogane around to do nothing more than be a pest, he feels a sort of idleness. The noble banquets they attend provide brief entertainment but alas, he is growing bored, and quickly, with the sameness of the oriental walls and bland white faces.

“C’mon, Kogane, let’s go somewhere. Some place outside of the castle gates.” Lance pleads one slow going morning some few months into their new marriage.

Interestingly, Kogane never allows servants to assist him when getting dressed in the mornings. It is the one thing he demands of _Lance,_ of all people, and even then he only has his husband sit on the bed or stand nearby. Kogane ties his own sashes, laces his own _hakama,_ and Lance makes comments or insults or just blabbers on about anything that comes to mind. This time of day is a favorite of the emperor’s, other than the few minutes before the two retire to their separate chambers in which Kogane never fails to deliver an innocent kiss to Lance’s head.

Lance does not know how to admit to either of them that he almost feels the same way.

Kogane’s broad, scarred shoulders disappear behind the dark red of his casual robes, and he shoots an amused glance towards Lance, “You may go. No one is stopping you.”

Grunting quite rudely, Lance lounges back on the large bed in the center of the room, resting his weight on his elbows, “Aren’t you afraid I will run off?” Damn, he never thought of just leaving by himself. He figured there was some sort of rule against that.

“No.” Comes the monarch’s simple, sure answer. It pisses Lance off as it always does.

Lance raises an eyebrow, “You sound confident, why’s that?”

“You are a man of your word.” Responds Kogane as he finishes tying his top robes. He turns to his husband, his face set in a small, stoic frown.

“I only swore to marry you-” Lance scoffs, a teasing smile dancing on his plump lips, “-I never said anything about staying afterwards.”

His smile falls slightly when Kogane walks to him, growing too near for comfort. He forces himself to stay playful, to keep his gaze from dropping submissively to the ground like some common worker. He is royalty now and should act like it.

And is that not a funny thought? Lance. _Royalty_. An awful cosmic joke.

The emperor eyes him curiously, as if Lance were a jigsaw puzzle he was determined to solve, and murmurs, “Fine then. If you wish to know,” He comes to stand between Lance’s legs at the edge of the bed, leans over and braces himself with a palm beside the other’s torso. The other hand swiftly cups Lance’s jaw before he could pull away, and Kogane’s fingers stroke his stubble lazily, “If you ever dared to run from me, I would hunt you down like a dog.”

His fingers tighten menacingly, nails biting in just enough to hurt. Lance winces, hoping that a show of pain would lessen Kogane’s grip. It does not and Kogane continues in a low voice, “I would not rest until I dragged you back here by your hair, and then I would do everything necessary to ensure that you never strayed from my sight again. Do you wish to test my patience, husband?”

Lance hates that he loves the teasing weight of Kogane’s hips on his, the brush of his legs against his inner thighs, the heaviness of his serious gaze that lights a fire inside. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips in a nervous tick and he shivers when Kogane’s eyes track the movement like a hawk. Heart pounding like a beat of a drum and fingers aching to bury themselves into Kogane’s mane of inky black hair, Lance mutters, “It’ll take more than threats to keep me interested.”

Kogane watches Lance unblinkingly for a long moment, thumb mindlessly stroking along his jawline. He then states resolutely, “I am sure I can find something to please you.” He releases Lance’s jaw and moves away.

Lance’s legs tug together the second the other leaves, a useless grab for security, and his fists clench on top of his knees. They shake and he grits his teeth, “Well I’m _bored!_ ”

“Stop your complaints. I will take you out today, then.”

That’s the ticket. Perking up, Lance grins at the emperor and demands, “Anywhere I want!” He knows he sounds pretentious, a spoiled rotten kept man, but this is his role to play. His role, just like any job before it. Whether he play a dirty farmhand, a giggling prostitute, or a wealthy merchant, it is yet another face he wears.

“Yes. Anywhere you want. Anything you want.”

Good. Lance was starting to worry that his obvious influence over Emperor Kogane was wanning. How disastrous it would be, for the monarch to be the one who held all the power. He mulls over his words in his head, however, and remembers later, as Kogane follows Lance into a rickshaw, that a pig is fed and pampered to fatness before it is eaten.

 

* * *

 

 

It has been some time since Lance has last taken on a job and the dormancy makes him grow antsy. He is a natural born killer, through and through, and these past months without bloodshed have been just _terrible_ for him. Unfortunately, there is no possibility that Kogane would ever allow Lance to sneak off and throw himself into the danger that is being a hired gun. His warnings against running away have done beautifully in keeping Lance at bay, so Lance decides to do the one thing there is left to do.

The emperor appears surprised when he looks down to see a sword impaling his chest. He taps the glistening steel and cocks his head, tone bemused, “I thought we were done with this, my love?” He sits at his desk in his office, having been working on a few documents sent in from his advisors before he was disrupted. He pushes his chair back with the intent to stand.

Lance trails a hand across his shoulders as he moves in front of him, a delighted grin brightening his boyish features. Kogane decides to remain sitting. Lance pulls at the monarch’s robe, wanting to bare the skin to see the inflicted wound, “I told you that I’m bored. You’ve chained a beast to your side, my lord.”

“Hm, so I have.” Kogane hums, complying with Lance’s desires. He reaches behind and pulls the blade out in one fluid motion, expression unchanging even as his insides squish obscenely. He then hands the sword off back to Lance in order to remove his top.

Lance’s face used to flush a beautiful ruddy red color whenever Kogane undressed before him, but after many mornings of watching him get ready for the day he has grown desensitized. It is both a shame and an excitement, this sort of domesticity. Lance’s eyes glue themselves to the thick black goop in the center of Kogane’s chest, bottom lip catching between his pretty white teeth.

“Lovely.” Murmurs Lance, his voice breathy and heavy. He creeps forward, parts his legs to cage Kogane’s between them and sinks his rear onto the emperor’s lap. The warm pads of his fingertips cause a shiver to rush from Kogane’s thighs to the nape of his neck as they trace the opening of the wound.

The emperor closes his palms around Lance’s muscular hips, cursing the fabric there that keeps him from feeling smooth caramel skin. His breath leaves him in a pleasant sigh and he relaxes both in Lance’s hold and into the back of the chair. He has his voice remain low as to not frighten off the frankly flighty boy, “Not as lovely as you.”

A sweet giggle, music to Kogane’s ears, escapes Lance as he quips, “Oh, you charmer.” He can see the wound beginning to close so he pulls at both sides, fighting the healing skin to keep it open. At the force of Lance’s grip the skin tears once more, not nearly as cleanly as with a sword. “No!” He whines, “I want to see your ribs.”

“What is so special about my ribs?” Inquires the emperor.

Lance presses a quick peck to the hollow of Kogane’s neck, effectively quieting any complaints, “Let me?”

Kogane huffs, “As if I could say no to you, dove.”

Another humored sound, this time a light laugh that sets Kogane’s innards atwitter, and then Lance pulls a sheathed dagger from within his loose fitting robes. He smiles prettily at the monarch as he slips the blade from its holdings. Kogane cares little for the weapon, finding it far less dangerous than the seafoam eyes that glint with demented glee. They watch him; watch his bare chest rise and fall with every unnecessary breath, watch his scorched life ooze writhe and twitch as it tries to heal the injury, watch his muscle stitch itself back together beneath the layer of torn skin. He likes how they watch, wants more of it.

Lance is well aware that Kogane can feel no pain, so the emperor claims, so he takes his time as he cuts into the other’s chest. He wishes to do as little damage as possible, his intent is to see the inner workings of Kogane’s torso and to destroy them would be counterproductive. All he has is a simple, sturdy dagger, so it will be too time consuming to attempt to pull apart the ribs today. Instead he just strips the skin away in neat patches, peeling it back as one would an orange rind. The immediate muscle underneath is a vivid red, as expected, but awful ebony tar, clumped and murky, races across the stringy tissue in ribbons. It all looks striped with the vicious blackness acting like a glue between the real flesh.

Curious. Lance continues, enamoured by the way Kogane continues to breathe steady beneath his movements. He does not bother hiding his arousal, unabashedly pressing it into the meatiness of Kogane’s left thigh. The emperor’s hands tighten considerably at the hardness, a sharp hiss whistling through his slowly sharpening teeth. He wants to drag Lance forward and press their erections together, chase the bliss of pleasure, yet refrains. Lance needs to concentrate.

Lance finally cuts through the tough muscle, the tip of his blade scratching against bone. Kogane inhales- that is a strange feeling, having something tickle along your bare bones like that. Lance chuckles and he smiles, prompting the other to keep going with a squeeze at the hips. Kogane’s smile broadens into a smoky smirk when Lance’s lower half twitches forward at the contact, his clothed dick briefly grinding down on Kogane’s thigh in response. Lance pouts at him and snaps, “Stop distracting me!”

His husband is provocatively adorable when he gets like this, desperate for blood to be spilled and pleasure to be chased. Kogane eases his grip and Lance uses his bare hands to rip the muscle as gently as he can from the rib cage. Underneath the layer, the inky pink-stained bones show, and under those, clear as day, are Kogane’s lungs. When Lance moves his head, he can even see the thumping heart beneath. He draws in a stuttered breath, the heat between his legs becoming unbearable. His dick throbs to the beat of Kogane’s bare heart, a wonderfully erotic experience that threatens to throw him over the precipice untouched.

No need for that, it would inflate the emperor’s ego. Lance moans out, “M-my lord, I can _see_ it.” He reaches out and strokes his ribs one at a time, then presses the pad of his index finger in between two of them to stroke an inflating lung. “I can _touch_ it.”

The emperor lifts his right hand off Lance’s hip, cups the side of his head and has his thumb stroke the softness of his cheekbones, “Can you _hear_ it, my love?”

“M-my lord, I can _hear_ it.” Lance groans submissively. And that they both can. Kogane’s heart is loud as it picks up speed, _thump thump thumping_ like a great lion’s roar. Lance leans forward, throwing his dagger to the side, and, fearlessly, presses his ear to Kogane’s lukewarm rib cage.

_Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump-_

“It beats for you.” Whispers Emperor Kogane.

_BA-thump, BA-thump, BA-thump-_

“Only for you, Lance.”

_ba-THUMP! ba-THUMP! ba-THUMP!_

Lance has never heard such a beautiful sound. He bites into his own knuckle so hard his draws blood (dark crimson, warm, _human)_ and shivers, feeling cold and hot at the same time. Kogane coos softly to him, moving his hand to grab the one at Lance’s mouth. He rubs the blood away, each swipe painful against the new wound.

“Be careful.” Kogane lightly scolds, “You need never feel pain with me.”

Lance nods, the motion small and childlike, and he stares at the beating organ so near his face. He queries, “Kogane?”

“Yes, beloved?”

“Do you think if I ate your heart you would die?”

Kogane’s lips quirk and he asks, “Do you want to try?”

Lance thinks for a long moment as Kogane lounges in the contentment of a pondering silence. His chest is already healing itself, ripped flesh and torn veins seeking their counterparts mindlessly. Lance is running out of time and he shrugs, “No, not really.”

For what if the emperor perished? What if Lance held that life in his hands, feasted upon its gory energy, only to look up and see that those violet eyes had lost their glow?

Pulling back, Lance gazes down upon his undying husband, meeting that passionate stare. They contemplate each other wordlessly, trapped in an exchange of emotion so deep that they do not really comprehend. What he sees in Kogane’s eyes frightens the tiny prey instinct within him so he rolls his hips in a smooth, sinful motion to lock it away. He tosses his head back with a breathless moan, dragging his hardon down Kogane’s hard thigh.

Kogane’s pupils blow, the thin ring of his irises flashing a predatory gold, and he latches onto the other’s hips once more. He clicks his tongue, “If you do that, love, who knows what will become of you?”

The emperor is trying to scare him off, Lance understands, to keep him from doing something he will regret. Lance smirks, a sharp line in an otherwise soft face, “I know what will become of me, my lord.” He ruts forward, maneuvering his pelvis so that is rests against Kogane’s.

“And that is?” The monarch breathes, jerking his own hips up in a thoughtless action, causing them both to moan.

Lance chuckles low and purposefully, hands moving to rest on Kogane’s shoulders. He slides forward until their chests touch and his elbows rest where his hands once did, his nose grazing the other’s in a mocking caress, “I would become one with you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance’s hips rock forwards into Kogane’s, their sweaty skin both sticking and sliding over one another as they twist themselves into the bedsheets. He has his emperor’s legs deadlocked around his middle, ankles crossed and digging roughly into the small of his back. He welcomes the pain, uses it as a distraction from ejaculating too early into the paradise writhing beneath him.

Kogane was adamant about being on the receiving end their first time, afraid that Lance’s lack of experience with anal sex would cause him to rethink if he were to be the one taking it. As much as the emperor lusted for the reality of Lance’s claves on his shoulders and his panting face flushed with shame, the view was just as good from below.

Lance leans forward and kisses Kogane, eagerly swiping his tongue inside to chase after the salty taste of his own cum. Kogane kisses back just a fiercely, readily giving him whatever he desires. He grunts and growls into Lance’s parted mouth, licks like a kitten at wherever he can reach, and undulates his hips in a motion that drive Lance insane.

“Fu-fuck, _Kogane-_ ” Groans Lance into his husband’s ear, his breath hot and wet against the skin, “do that again-!”

Kogane obliges, tightening his ass’ grip on Lance’s member and rolling his pelvis to meet Lance’s in an explosion of heady pleasure, “Da-darling, _ah!_ , right- right there, _fuck!_ ”

Lance gasps, a lovely sound that makes Kogane’s dick splurt precum, “Ko-Kogane-”

 _“Kethyr!”_ The emperor’s fingers tug and rub Lance’s nipples, grinds his hips harder.

Slowing, Lance peers down in confusion, eyes murky in their lusty haze, “H-huh?”

Desperate for more contact, Kogane continue to move at the same speed as before, regardless of Lance’s help or not, “M-my real name, it’s, it’s _Kethyr._ ”

With a pleased groan of understanding, Lance picks up his pace once more, thrusting hard at Kogane’s prostate. He sucks yet another dark mark into the smooth, white column of Kogane’s neck, whimpering an almost inaudible, _“K-Kethyr.”_

A bright light flashes behind Kethyr’s eyelids as he cums, untouched and startling, all over their chests. He cries out in wanton pleasure, twisting and curling his body as it quakes. Lance stares down at him with large eyes, besotted by the godly body below.

“Oh-oh fuck, _Kethyr,_ I-I-” Lance can hardly speak, the tightness of the warm muscle around his member is heaven, his mind has been tossed above the clouds- but something is off, something else is present there, swirling and growing with the tempest of pleasure inside. It is like claws, sinking into his guts and moving up, up up, and  _higher still_ until they reach his heart and enclose around them in a vice. His eyebrows furrow in question, his hips falter in their punishing speed, " _K-Kethyr,_ I-I'm, what's happening?"

Kethyr strokes Lance’s red face, smiling serenely up at him, “Cum for me, Lance. My love.”

With a sudden pained wail, Lance does just that. He spills himself into his husband and his limbs shake fearsomely in the shuddering aftershocks of his orgasm. His innards, from the depths of his lower intestines to his stuttering lungs, tighten instead of relax. He gasps and yelps as the excruciating grasp of venom envelopes him in debilitating wave after wave of change. The emperor draws him down, encloses his quivering body in a loving, possessive embrace. Lance presses his face into Kethyr’s neck and holds onto him like a man drowning at sea. He sobs as a match strikes against the inner walls of his stomach, alighting the bile and mucus within, "K-Kethyr, what-it _hurts._ "

Pressing a chaste kiss to Lance’s damp forehead, Kethyr hums in agreement. It hurt for him, too. Lance’s eyes are shut tight and his mind foggy with a twisting mixture of satisfaction and delirium, so he does not notice the way the emperor’s eyes shine a monstrous gold, nor the way his swollen lips stretch into a frightful, deranged mockery of a lover’s bliss.

"Do not fret, my love. The pain will pass by morning, and then we will wake to the dawn of our eternity together."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I appreciate all of the friendly comments :)  
> Honestly kind of used this fic to practice my hand at smut....  
> If you are confused by the ending, here is a basic explanation:  
> Keith turned Lance immortal via sex. Magic, bitches. Don't think too deep on it, this is a one-shot.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be continued in a second installment in this same story. I hope you enjoyed the beginning. I loved writing this.
> 
> Tumblr: [@ronswansoneatsmyass](https://ronswansoneatsmyass.tumblr.com/)


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